


AU-gust

by Kummerspeck7



Category: Royal Pains
Genre: Alternate Universe, Friendship/Love, M/M, Romance, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-05 05:51:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15857520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kummerspeck7/pseuds/Kummerspeck7
Summary: Tumblr's August Prompt: AU-gust! Part One featuring soulmate AU, what if your OTP were parents, Boris attends the carnival, college enemies, and Mermaid!Hank.





	AU-gust

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I've been writing primarily in the first person for the last 14 years. I used this in part as an exercise to work on my third person narrative. The quality varies story to story

1- Soulmate

“Soulmate au where when you write something on your skin with pen/marker/whatever the hell you want, it will show up on your soul mates skin as well” (Credit: OTP Prompts)

Hank

I want to leave

Hank glumly traced the letters on his arm. He was eight years old at his first sleep over and he wanted to go home. But he couldn't be a baby. He didn't want his friends to make fun of him. He wrote the letters again and again, almost unable to stop. Something about the action promised comfort in return. 

Suddenly he felt a touch against his palm, as real and warm as if someone were there with him.

So do I

Hank survived the rest of the sleepover.

-*-

“Hank? No, he won't try it with us.” Evan said dismissively to his friends as they wrote on their forearms.

It was a popular party game, seeing if anyone would get a response. No one ever seemed to. Soulmates were rare, maybe one in every few thousand people were lucky enough to have one. Hank rolled his eyes as he picked up some plates and brought them to the kitchen. Evan and his friends went back to playing NES a few minutes later.

It had been ten years since that day at the sleepover, and he hadn't experienced anything like it again. Hank looked at the discarded pens on the table. It was ridiculous. He shouldn't bother.

But he was already moving, picking one up and writing on the inside of his wrist. Warmth pulsed through him, some feeling of connectedness that more sense than it should.

Did you get away?

He did his homework, he cleaned the house. Their mother had died the year before so no one would do it if he didn't. He thought about leaving for college in the fall. He thought about med school. But mostly he thought about the minutes passing.

Boris

At first Boris thought he was imagining the feather light touch under the sleeve of his suit jacket. The old family church was sweltering and packed with hundreds of mourners. Family, friends, business associates. All came to mark the passing of his father.

The soft touch started its rhythmic pattern again. Letters. 

I W A N T T O L E A V E

Boris felt a trickle of sweat slide down his back. He was seated in the center of the first pew, on display for everyone. Would he shame himself by crying? Would he be overly detached? Did the family need to keep an eye on him? Was he worth his family's business connections? 

That was the real reason everyone was there. They were watching him, eager to see what the next Duke Kuester von Jurgens-Ratenicz would do. They were vultures swarming a carcass and observing their next kill.

I W A N T T O L E A V E

The letters repeated again. They called to him, hypnotic, promising. His hands were clasped together in front of him, it would be so easy to write back. Slowly he traced some letters against his palm.

S O D O I

He didn't leave, not until the service was over. Then he got on a plane and didn't look back.

-*-

Boris woke up feeling ready to take over the world. All night he'd had fantastical dreams of a father who took him and his dream brother on adventures, about sneaking into a building to get keys for a car, then riding together with the top down. He dreamt of a loving mother and a warm, small home. 

Hank, everyone had called him. My boy Hank.

It was ridiculous and childish but Boris couldn't help but feel buoyed. He decided to go for a morning swim, perhaps even one in the ocean. He tossed off his pajamas and suddenly froze at the sight of black ink on his arm.

Could it be? He rubbed a thumb across the tattoo, already knowing it wouldn't smudge until his soulmate removed it.

There was a pen in his nightstand. 

Warmth radiated within him as he grabbed it. Something clicked into place, a piece of him he hadn't known was missing.

I spent two years backpacking Asia. Did you?

-*-

“So I gather you're Boris?” He said, still looking mildly irritated.

“Boris Kuester von Jurgens-Ratenicz. You'd be informal about it too, no?”

“Hank.” The doctor finally introduced himself. For just a moment, the earth stood perfectly still. 

“H-Hank.” Boris said, the name thick on his tongue. “Have a seat, Hank.”

His heart was pounding as if he'd run a thousand miles to arrive in that moment. He wanted to say that name every day for the rest of his life. How do you tell someone that they're your soulmate? 

He barely held in a smirk as he noticed Hank’s heated gaze move up his body appraisingly. “Stay in my guest cottage. For the summer. It will be vacant soon.”

He couldn't just blurt out Hank, I have loved you for twenty five years. The man was attracted to him, perhaps with a little more time-

“I'm only here for the weekend, but thanks.” The doctor demurred, turning to leave. Boris had to do something. He had to stop him.

Hank

Hank felt a familiar tingle on his palm as he tried to walk away.

W

A

I

T

He froze in the doorway and looked down at his hand like he'd never seen it before. Suddenly he realized the dull hum in his body wasn't from helping April or the thrill of the save. It was because he was near Boris.

“I have no idea what the protocol is for this situation, either.” Boris informed him with the slightest lift of his shoulders.

Hank looked back at the stranger across the room who didn't feel like a stranger at all. He felt like a long lost friend, like this was their reacquaintance. There was a strange pulling sensation, a magnetism drawing him in. Hank moved closer and the feeling intensified. 

He went to take another step and found himself almost running to Boris instead. He threw his arms around the other man's neck, pressing their bodies together as he went in for a kiss. He'd been waiting his entire life for this moment without even realizing it, and everything seemed so perfect.

Boris dropped his head so their lips could connect, and sparks flew at the first touch of skin on skin. Hank swore he saw actual fireworks. Boris was certain he heard a choir of seraphim. They felt their souls bonding completely, a sudden seismic shift that left them with a feeling of completion in their souls. The kiss was hot, frantic, needy. They'd been apart for so long. Their tongues met and moved together while their hands explored whatever they could reach.

“It's you. It's finally you.” Hank finally managed as they broke for air.

“Twenty five years. Twenty five years I've loved you.” The older man growled back. “You're moving in here tonight. I'll have Dieter send someone for your things.”

Hank was surprised to find himself nodding in complete agreement-- he hadn't even lived with Nikki when they'd been engaged. He just couldn't imagine leaving his soulmate. Not now, not ever if he had the choice. “Stuff later, bedroom now.”

Boris caught Hank's hand with his own. “You are everything I could have hoped for and more.”

(A/n: I'm not making the Hank checking out Boris thing up. Watch the pilot! It's subtle, I didn't notice it until I watched it like 10 times in a row to get the dialogue. Right around when Boris leans against his desk)

 

2&4- College and Enemies

Hank hated three people on this Earth: Keller, who mercilessly bullied him for years, his father, who abandoned the family while his mother slowly died of cancer, and Boris Kuester von Jurgens-Ratenicz, the silver spoon fed menace who despised him.

And the situation wasn't even his fault, not that Boris would listen.

In Hank's third year of pre-med he attended a fundraising mixer. The champagne was cheap and the crowds were hot and stagnant in the quad. The music department was performing some strange modern pieces while the sun sank down into the horizon. Hank saw him for the first time as the stranger impassively observed a water feature, completely unruffled by the chaotic event nearby. He was tall, lithe, impeccably groomed, unlike anyone Hank had ever seen before. Something stirred inside him, Hank felt compelled to talk to the handsome stranger.

Boris. The man introduced himself simply.

Hank. He'd replied.

An hour later they were naked in the back of Boris’ car pressed together so tightly it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. Boris was incredible and gentle and rough and experienced in all the best ways, taking plenty time to prepare Hank and then fucking him until he saw fireworks.

I'll see you around. Hank had teased as he left. Pre med was all that mattered now. As nice as it would be to do that again, he had to focus on his studies. He didn't plan on seeing the stranger again, no matter how great the chemistry was.

Three days later Hank walked into the first day of his Personal Finance class to find Boris was the adjunct professor. Boris had not taken it well, assuming Hank had slept with him for the grade. Even after Hank switched out of the class he had refused to change his mind. And that almost could have been the end of it, two people who despised one another over a misunderstanding.

Hank was required to attend a hospital-wide meeting twenty days into his residency. He shuffled into the massive room with seven other exhausted emergency care interns and didn't even bother to look at the stage before them. He could get ten, maybe even fifteen minutes of sleep if the speaker was long winded. There were at least three hundred personnel in the room, no one would notice if he wasn't paying attention. He settled back into his chair, closed his eyes, let relaxation wash over him. The resident director introduced the hospital's chief operating officer just as Hank started to drift off.

“Welcome.” 

Hank would know that low, lightly accented voice anywhere. He could almost smell the man's cologne, could still feel the man's skin against his in that hot car. He knew what that voice sounded like when he growled Hank's name and came, knew the taste of his lips and the vibrant blue of his eyes.

He also knew what that melodic voice sounded like when he was furious and quietly hissing accusations. He knew what those distracting eyes looked like alight with barely concealed rage. He could remember everything like it had happened yesterday.

Hank forced open his eyes to confirm it wasn't all a sleep deprived hallucination. At the podium was the man he remembered: tall, finely dressed, handsome, trim, well spoken. He looked more grey than Hank remembered him being five years ago, but it suited him. He looked distinguished, accomplished, powerful. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation, maybe it was the memory of their memorable interlude, but Hank finally noticed something else. 

Boris was staring directly at him.

 

3&5- Single Parent and Laundromat

Hank was putting his laundry in the washer when the child came up to him. He was about six and friendly, asking him about why he only had green scrubs and why he used the detergent in the white bottle. Hank was more than happy to answer, but kept an eye out for the kid's Mom.

Please don't let it be another woman looking for husband number three… He hoped, replaying previous encounters over in his mind. He liked this laundromat, it was near the hospital and relatively close to the tiny apartment he'd moved into when he returned to the city after the implosion of HankMed. It was clean and no one ever tried to steal his laundry. It was also his third laundromat this year, after two separate women had started to synch their laundry schedules with his.

“I'm Carlos. My mom is a doctor, too.” The child volunteered. “You should come say hi!”

Hank was about to decline when Carlos’ mother turned around. Her long brunette hair was tucked back, her form fitting dress lovely against her tanned skin. She looked as surprised to see him as he was to see her.

“Hank.” Marisa said almost wistfully. 

“Marisa.” He replied, unable to believe his eyes. “What are you doing here? Where's--” 

“Carlos, here. You have twenty minutes, enjoy your Flappy Birds.” She said suddenly, handing the boy a tablet which he gleefully took. 

Hank frowned. “Marisa?”

She watched her son plug in his earbuds and immerse himself in the game. “He sent you away at the end of summer, no?”

“Yeah, I left the Hamptons that winter. We couldn't afford the real estate costs.” He recalled with a wince. Evan hadn't spoken to him for almost six months after Hank had managed to get a job in the city and moved back.

“I left shortly after you did. I couldn't be with someone who didn't love our child. I went back for a meeting--legal things, he wanted Carlos to receive the Dukedom--and I gave birth early. Boris was there, he laid eyes on his son and fell in love.” She recalled fondly. “He was a kind and loving father. It was everything I had wanted.”

“Had?”

Marisa nodded. “A few months later his condition entered the active phase. He couldn't walk, he couldn't… He died, Hank.”

 

10- Secret Agent

“We meet again, Hank.” The familiar, lightly accented voice boomed in the stone walls of the dungeon.

Hank winced from where he hung manacled to the wall. Boris “The Duke” Kuester von Jurgens-Ratenicz might sound genial, but his lethal ways were well known to his business associates and to Interpol. He was a brilliant, dangerous, calculating man.

“Ah, Hank. When are you finally going to pick the winning side? I could make you very comfortable.” Boris offered, lightly touching his captive's cheek.

Hank diverted his eyes. Maybe he could still get out of this. Maybe-

“Of course, I warned you what would happen if I caught you a second time. Can't have people thinking I'm getting soft… Or working with you.” He looked very slightly up and to the left, his personal not quite an eye roll.

Hank looked to see if he could pull the manacles from the wall, there had to be something he could do. He couldn't die in the dungeon, what would happen to his father's plea deal? What about Evan? He had to survive for them.

Boris trailed a finger to Hank's chin, then to the base of his throat. The Duke’s lips were slightly pursed in evident displeasure as his left hand joined the right wrapped tightly around his captive's neck.

“Perhaps in another life things could have been different between us.” He murmured regretfully.

 

11- Mermaid

Boris awoke on the beach at the first light of dawn, clutching a strange necklace made of pearls and shells. Maybe he had been drunk or hallucinating the events of the night before. Perhaps his genetic disease was kicking off with dementia. Maybe someone slipped something into his drink.There simply wasn't another option, there was no way the things he remembered actually happened.

It started the night before on the Majestät, his sea boat. The storm had surprised everyone on board. It moved quickly, battering the hull and sending massive waves crashing over the deck. Debris flew and ropes snapped. The roar of the furious storm was deafening, drowning out the voices as the crew tried to keep the vessel in one piece. A screaming noise reverberated from the steerage-- the boiler! The boiler! People ran and shouted.

Then there was light and heat and water and Boris wasn't sure which way was up or down. His lungs burned for air but which way to go? Everything was so quiet in the churning sea. In that moment he knew he was going to die. Miles from shore in the storm that sank his hundred meter long vessel. He went to take a lungful of water, to accept the end.

But someone clapped their hand over his mouth. 

Suddenly there was a pair of strong arms rocketing them both towards the surface, moving them through the water and between sections of sinking ship effortlessly. Boris greedily gulped in the air as he attempted to get his bearings. 

“We have to go. Quickly.” An unfamiliar voice said.

He nodded weakly. The waves were rolling ten feet tall, the rain still pelting. Before Boris could thank the man they were off, moving at a superhuman speeds. It didn't make sense, but he didn't question how someone could swim so quickly without using their arms. He was just thankful. Eventually Boris closed his eyes, just to rest, and drifted off to sleep.

“I can't get you closer than this.” An apologetic voice said, not fully waking him up.

Boris struggled to fully open his eyes. His head was pounding, probably a concussion from the accident. Dieter would make an appointment--Oh. He closed his eyes for a second as the realization swept through him. Dieter had been on the ship with him. Boris would do something for his friend's family. For all their families, everyone who worked on Majestät. 

“It will be okay.” The man holding him said solemnly. “The ones you lost are with us, now.”

Pain lanced through Boris’ head as he tried to get his feet back under him. The water was warm for October, but he couldn't seem to stop shivering. He staggered a couple of steps towards the shore before he realized the other man wasn't following him.

“What do you mean, ‘with us now’?” Boris asked slowly. “Who are you?”

“Turn around.” The stranger said calmly. 

The moon was full, perhaps the storm had blown over. Or maybe they had just traveled so far that they'd left it behind. Boris turned to look at his savior. He almost looked like a fit man of average height with short, wavy hair. Still, something was different. He didn't wear any clothing, and his skin seemed to glow incandescent in the moonlight. His features were just slightly too sharp to be normal. 

“Your eyes are black.” Boris murmured. 

“Usually people notice the tail first.” The creature opposite responded amusedly as he lifted it for Boris to view. It spanned five or six feet across from the left fin to the right, and had to be at least eight or ten feet long from what he could see. “I'm Hank, by the way.”

“H-Hank. Boris.” He reflexively introduced himself. “I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

The mermaid? Merman? Shook his head then looked over his shoulder. “They're calling for me. Quickly. There's a plot against your life. Your ship was going to sink tonight with or without the storm.”

“Who?” Boris breathed, transfixed.

Hank's lips pulled back in a scowl, revealing a crowding of sharp white teeth. “Your friend. He is with us now. He will be tried and punished for his actions. He isn't the mastermind, though. Keep wary, Boris.”

“Thank you again. I will find who did this.” He promised. 

“In return, I need something from you.” Hank informed him. “Four years ago, or maybe five, I was lost at sea. Find my brother, Evan Lawson, and make sure he's okay. Don't tell him you've seen me. Check in on him.”

“Of course. How will I tell you about him?” Boris’ headache was getting worse. He could barely think, let alone listen.

“I'll know.” Hank said evasively as he ran a long hand over Boris’ cheek. His nails were surprisingly long and looked razor sharp, but the ache behind his eyes lessened. 

“Will I ever see you again?” The nobleman questioned.

Hank frowned apologetically as he touched a necklace Boris hadn't known he was wearing. “You've been marked for the sea. I'll be there for you when your time has come. You won't be scared. You have my word.”

Boris turned to look at a noise coming from the shore. Shadow Pond loomed large and dim in the distance. How had Hank known where he lived? When he turned back Hank was gone, nothing but ripples in the water suggesting anything had ever been there.

“Bis später.” He undertoned. Then he dragged himself to the beach, exhausted.

 

14- Reincarnation

Hank looked down at what remained of his friend. Sallow skin, barely breathing, unable to walk or talk. The affliction had started a year earlier, striking him down physically and stealing his mind. They'd both fought it-- Boris to survive and Hank to heal him. It hadn't helped, nothing had helped. He'd just gotten worse.

“I know you believe in the next life.” Hank whispered in his friend's ear. “I couldn't save you this time. But next time? Things are going to be different.”

Hank looked around the opulent room, surveying how Boris’ fine possessions contrasted against his doctor's tools. A slow anger burned in his veins-- the herbs and leeches and powdered saint's finger never seemed to work. The candles were burning low. The fire had smothered in the grate. Better medicine had to exist. If it didn't now, it would some day far in the future.

Yes, next time things would be different.

 

15- Life Swap

“Can you really help her?” A voice asked as he got into his car.

Boris turned to appraise the young man before him. Fine, tailor made clothing hung off a frame still slight with youth. He couldn't be a day over seventeen, with unruly chestnut curls and huge hazel eyes. This must be the son the Duchess had spoken of. He didn't look like he possessed the ruthless singular drive of an elite banker, but he also didn't look like a wastrel destined for nothing but draining the family's coffers. 

“I can keep her comfortable. I wish I could do more.” The doctor answered honestly.

Hank looked over towards Shadow Pond, how the windows glinted magnificently in the sun. He was a strong kid, probably the only thing holding the family together. Boris changed his mind. Maybe the teen would be a formidable businessman after all.

“She had all the best doctors try to cure her. All this money…” He trailed off, letting the unspoken words hang between them. And none of it could save her.

“My Father died when I was about your age.” Boris found himself saying. “Not cancer, a genetic disease. But if you ever want to talk.”

Hank looked at him for a long moment, as if he were putting a puzzle together. “Genetic. So you're a doctor who can't fix what's going to kill you, even knowing everything about medicine.”

Boris lifted an eyebrow slightly. Teenagers. “I have some measure of empathy for your situation. I hope you will show discretion about my health.”

The future Duke Lawson turned and pointed down a long stretch of driveway. “That's the way to the guesthouse. It's furnished and ready for you.”

“Thank you.” Boris answered politely. He could still hear his mother in his head. You don't have to receive manners to give them, Borya.

“And thank you. For the offer. And the honesty. I won't mention your… stuff. To anyone.” Hank said haltingly. 

Boris suspected they'd be taking again soon.

 

18- Carnival (Credit to OTP Prompts)

“He's where?” Boris asked calmly.

He didn't feel calm. He was furious, blood rushing hotly through his veins. The carnival music was overly loud. There were people laughing and children yelling. All Boris heard was a dull roar. Hank was his.

“The HankMed kissing booth.” Dr Sacani repeated blandly. “Near the Ferris wheel.”

Boris nodded and headed towards it. He found his pace increasing with every step he took, weaving around the other carnival attendees as quickly as he could. How could Hank not mention this? His frown deepened as the garish HankMed banners Evan insisted on came into view. 

The line was easily twenty women long, curling around a ticket booth and blocking the flow of traffic. For a second he could almost swear he heard Hank laughing, but then it was gone. Mechanically he joined the queue. It moved too quickly for him to think of what he would say, too slowly as he wondered what Hank was talking about to all these women before he kissed them. His Hank.

“Aww, Hank.” The woman in line before him crooned. “How about a real one?”

“Ah, I don't think so. But you can grab a second one if you'd like.” Hank laughed, gesturing at something in front of him.

The woman moved. It was just him and Hank, face to face. “Hello.”

“Boris!” He said, looking surprised. “Why are you waiting in line for a Hershey kiss?”

The table was covered in Hershey's kisses with tiny custom HankMed labels. Instant relief swept through him, relief and guilt for assuming the worst. 

Boris cupped Hank's smiling face between his hands and dragged their lips together. He didn't care who was watching, Hank was his. He loved Hank. Hank wasn't going to hurt him. Boris had put this life in his lover's hands more than once, he could trust him with this. He was finally in a healthy, loving relationship. As much as Hank was his, he was Hank's. Finally he broke the kiss and smoothed his tie.

“I must go. I will see you tonight at our home?” Boris proclaimed just loudly enough to be overheard.

Hank looked supremely amused. “I love you, too, Boris. See you tonight.”

 

19- Reverse Crush 

Hank never really wanted Boris until Marisa had him.

He loved running a hand over Boris’ shadowed jaw in the mornings, loved the feeling of the other man hard and pressed against him, loved the way he kissed and the way he tasted. But they were so different.

Hank couldn't imagine living in Shadow Pond. He couldn't imagine existing in a private museum, separated from the world by cooks and maids and security. He couldn't imagine not having children or not practicing medicine, and how could he practice when security had to search everyone who came near him?

So he was content with being friends who occasionally fell into bed together after cards and scotch. Unfortunately, that was not enough for Boris.

And the next thing Hank knew, Marisa had the life he was so sure he hadn't wanted.

And she still practiced medicine.

And she was pregnant with his child.

And with every corazon he murmured to her, every time he touched her like he couldn't exist away from her, every adoring look he bestowed on her- Hank felt nausea stir somewhere deep within, a churning like he was on a spinning carnival ride he couldn't escape. He'd watch Boris and the same thought would echo through his head again and again. 

I made a mistake.

That should be me.

That should be us.

 

22- Parents

“This situation his become completely untenable.” Boris muttered as he lifted a cat off his desk and deposited it on the floor.

I shrugged. “It was a good idea at the time. How were we supposed to know Penelope would get your language skills?”

“I warned you she would.” He groused. “The second you proposed the ‘learn one language, receive one cat’ agreement. It's in the contract we all signed.”

“How could I forget the 'I told you so’ addendum?” I laughed as I went to rub his broad shoulders. “I still can't believe you made our four year old sign a contract.”

“I still can't believe she learned two languages that first year. We should have put a time limit on that deal, Hank.” Boris’ eyes drifted shut and the tension started to drain from him as I kneaded.

“How many cats do we have now?” I asked.

“I have no earthly idea. Eighteen? Nineteen? Her Swahili tutor avoided me this week. Have you heard anything from him?” 

“No, but I caught her looking at the ‘available cats’ section of the Animal Rescue Foundation website.” I informed him after pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Any chance she's just dreaming?” He asked, already knowing the answer. In the six years since we made the deal, our daughter had become proficient in a new language every four months. Boris was a talented polyglot, Penelope was incredibly gifted linguist.

“Your language skills, my need to nurture. We could have done worse.” I said lightly as I loosened his tie.

“You'll have to remind me of that when we get Muffin the Third. Nineteen languages with all the words between them and we have two cats named Muffin.” A soft smile belied his words.

“Is this how you imagined our lives turning out when you kissed me fifteen years ago?” I teased.

He grabbed me by the front of the shirt and dragged my mouth to his in a scorching kiss. Almost fifteen years and I still couldn't get enough of him. I loved the subtle scent of his cologne, the roughness of his immaculate beard. 

“You have always been my greatest acquisition.” He quipped, then touched my cheek. “My life is so much more wonderful than I could ever have hoped. Every day I'm grateful for that kiss, that you fell in love with me, that you built the research team that saved my life. I can't imagine life without Penelope. My life- Our life is wonderful, and I have you to thank for all the very best parts of it.”

I kissed him again, this time reaching for the buttons on his shirt. If I was lucky there might still be some lube in the upper right drawer of the desk, or maybe we could--

There was a polite knock at the office door. Our eyes met. Later.

“Come.” Boris called in his usual tone as he released me.

Penelope skipped in excitedly, a whirl of skinny, too long limbs and wild blonde hair. She had the slight frame of a Lawson but everything else came from Boris. Fair skinned, light haired with blue eyes, patrician features delicately rising from an oval face. 

“Daddy! Papa! Guess what?” Even from across the room I could see the familiar glint in her eye.

“Ach du lieber Himmel.” Boris muttered as he pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“She's not spoiled, it's literally the only thing she's ever asked for. She’s such a good kid.” I murmured in his ear teasingly.

“Thank you for the reminder.” He grumbled as Penelope launched herself into my arms like she was still the tiny three year old who insisted on wearing princess dresses to tea. 

Some days I would look across the dinner table expecting to see our baby shoving fistfuls of broccoli into her mouth, only to find the sight of our big girl quietly conversing in Norwegian with her father instead. Or I'd hear a splash coming from the pool and be surprised when it was her instead of Boris swimming.

Convincing Boris to have a baby had been nearly impossible. Even with the research about genetic testing and IVF, he said he'd made up his mind. He had watched his father die and he didn't want that for his child. We'd gone over the details again and again- we would use my half sister's donated eggs and his sperm so the child would be biologically linked to both of us. We'd have each embryo tested for the VCP mutation before implantation into Paige, who had offered to carry for us. We had two years of blood work assuring us that his condition was dormant. There was no reason to believe our child would see him die from anything other than old age. Boris disagreed. 

We never really fought about it, but it was always there. Every time we saw Evan's kids, every time we drove to the city and saw those stickers on the car windows. There was a wall slowly building between us. I made a decision. One day I quietly put the research away. I traded a few patients until there were no more kids on my roster. I spent more time drinking brandy and playing chess with Boris.

A few weeks later we went to visit a friend of Boris’ in Costa Rica. We walked on the beach and hiked in the mountains. We slept well past dawn and ate breakfast in bed. His friend hosted incredible soirees every evening filled with interesting people and ridiculous amounts of alcohol. As the days passed Boris seemed more and more distracted. He missed parts of conversations and folded on a full house during a game of cards. I asked him if he was okay and he just nodded, completely unlike himself.

When we arrived back at Shadow Pond he closed himself in his office. I didn't mind, we both had work to catch up on. I got a little concerned when he skipped dinner, but he used to occasionally do that back then. I tried to check on him once but he didn't answer the door, so I grabbed a book from the library and brought it to bed with me instead. He would talk to me when he was ready.

The next morning I found Boris sitting on the foot of our bed. His tie was loose, grey suit jacket creased, still awake from the night before. I watched him stare wordlessly out our window. Then he took a shuddering breath and spoke-- I can still hear his hoarse voice like it was yesterday. I want a child. God help me, I want a child.

The waiting took forever- picking doctors, drawing up the legal papers, the egg retrieval, the implantation. The pregnancy felt like an eternity. Then she was born and it all happened so fast. Every time I blinked she was a year older. I turned around and she was in school. I squeezed Penelope tighter, knowing that every day she was getting older and some day the big hugs would end.

“Big feelings, Daddy?” She asked with a laugh. It was how we taught her about managing emotions when she was a toddler. Now she teased us about it.

“You could say that.” I answered, loosening my hold.

She climbed out of my arms and stood before Boris’ desk like a tiny entrepreneur making their sales pitch. “Papa, twenty one cats only sounds like a lot. But if you divide the one hundred and nine thousand square feet of Shadow Pond by twenty one cats, we only have one cat per almost five thousand two hundred square feet. The average American home is two thousand six hundred square feet, so really we only have half a cat per typically sized home.”

“Wait, twenty one?” I asked, confused. “Don't we have nineteen now?”

“Yep!” She grinned. She looked just like Boris when she was triumphant, especially her big blue eyes. “But I convinced Mr Thomas to teach me Berber at the same time. So I learned two.”

I was about to say something when Boris made a displeased noise low in his throat.

“Penelope, there are nights I have trouble sleeping, concerned if the Kuester von Jurgens-Ratenicz legacy is more a burden than a gift. The pressure is immense. Banking is cutthroat, the other businesses are worse.” He shook his head for a second. “Süßling, perhaps I should worry less about you and more about the world I'm turning you loose on.”

“Not that we're pointing you in any one career direction. You're only ten.” I added pointedly in my husband's direction. “So, have you picked out the cats?”

 

26- BFF Swap (set during season 7, when Evan and Boris spend all night working on their plan) *NC-17 FILTH AHEAD*

“I thought you were in Brazil?” Hank asked.

Boris was nearly grinning. “I am. And soon you will be, too. Let's get some clothes.”

-*-

Hank found himself increasingly irritated as the minutes went by. Boris knew he'd spent his entire life protecting his little brother, knew he would do anything to keep him safe. He shouldn't have brought Evan into whatever he was into this time.

“Upset I spent the night with your brother?” Boris asked at Hank's sullen silence.

Hank shot him a sour look. “I don't like that Evan's involved with one of your plans.”

“Clearly.” He said, folding his arms across his chest. “Would you like to illuminate me as to why? He's more excited than a kid at Christmas.” 

“Evan is my baby brother. I love him, and I have to protect him. And you, you're my--” He gestured between them.

“Your…?” Boris prompted.

Hank ignored him. “I'm going to take a shower before we go.” 

He went into the bathroom and turned on the water. Of course he had feelings for Boris and yes, they were sleeping together. He just didn't feel the need to label it, especially during a fight about Boris’... Impropriety with his brother.

Hank rolled his eyes at himself. Impropriety? It was a good thing Boris couldn't hear his thoughts. He stepped under the hot spray of water and let out a deep breath. Every pleasantly aching muscle in his body relaxed. He didn't even hear the small click when the door opened.

“You never answered. I'm your...?” Boris questioned as he stepped into the shower.

The man had a twinkle in his eye and a the ghost of a smirk on his lips. He clearly had a retort ready to go if Hank suggested he wasn't invited. Taking to Boris was like playing chess sometimes--And Hank could never seem to say no to a good game.

“Best friend?” Hank suggested. “You can't just swap your best friend for his brother.”

“Thank God for that.” Boris muttered, stepping closer. “Though I don't generally shower with my friends.”

“Should have played more sports.” Hank managed to get out casually before he was pinned against the shower wall.

“Is that so?” Boris asked, tilting up the other man's chin. Then he leaned down and kissed him.

Hank could feel the fire burning in his blood, an unquenchable desire he always seemed to have for Boris. He dragged his fingers through the other man's hair and pulled him closer. Boris’ hands roamed his body, feeling the hard planes of his back and caressing the soft flesh of his ass. 

He moaned as Boris’ strong grip wrapped around his cock and began to pull it. It felt incredible, he wanted more. 

“Lutsche.” Boris commanded, holding a finger to his mouth. “Suck.”

Hank greedily sucked it in, laving it with his tongue. Boris inhaled roughly while he watched it move between his partner's lips. Suddenly the finger was gone and his mouth was back on Hank's, hungrier than before. He lifted one of the doctor's legs and wrapped it loosely around his waist.

Just as Hank began to wonder what he was doing the hand was back, this time gently rubbing against his opening. He rocked against him, into his hand, seemingly not in control of his own needy body. Hank was hot, steaming from his lover's touch and the run he'd just done and the shower. His head felt light, all he could focus on was the feeling of Boris’ hands on his body.

Finally the long finger entered him, just enough to rub tantalizingly against his prostate. Hank tried to call his name but his mouths were still crushed together. A familiar pressure was building, Hank was getting closer, riding the waves of pleasure and thrusting wantonly into Boris’ hand like it was somehow normal. 

“I want to watch you call my name when you come.” He murmured, synching the movement of his hands. “I want you to say ‘Boris is my good friend’.”

Hank was getting so close, the edge was right there. He looked down at Boris’ hand wrapped around his erection, up the man's impressive torso, to his eyes. They were captivating, distracting.

Hank heard himself speak without even meaning to. “I'm all yours. Whatever you want. Always.”

“Good. Tell me what I am to you.” He ordered softly. “Tell me what I mean to you.”

“You're my boyfriend.” The doctor managed between gulps of air. He was so close, trembling in his lover's arms, fucking himself on Boris’ finger and thrusting into the man's hand. 

“Say it again.” Boris commanded.

“I'm your boyfriend, and I love you!” Hank arched against him as he finally came. Lights exploded in front of his eyes while he floated in the incredible sensations. “Boris!”

Boris held him tightly as he recovered, kissing his neck and making sure he didn't slip on the wet tiles. Hank sagged gratefully into his arms. A few long moments passed with just the sound of water from the shower around them. 

“That wasn't so hard, was it?” Boris questioned. 

“Please put your gloating face away.” Hank mumbled. His head was resting on Boris’ chest, the man's heartbeat a steady thump in his ear.

“I have no idea to what you're referring, mein Freund.” He answered, still smiling.

-*-

“So what's the intrigue this time?” Hank finally asked a while later as he put on a clean shirt.

“We're going to save the Dalai Lama’s life.” Boris answered as he checked his perfectly knotted tie in the mirror.

Hank couldn't help but laugh. “Of course we are.”

 

27- Internet

(8/15/17 8:04pm) DerFreischutz wrote: You're online?

(8/15/17 8:05pm) HamptDoc17 wrote: Worst. Date. Ever.

(8/15/17 8:05pm) DerFreischutz wrote: You've had a lot of those recently.

(8/15/17 8:07pm) HamptDoc17 wrote: I should just marry you. 

(8/15/17 8:09pm) HamptDoc17 wrote: We've been messaging for what… three years? 

(8/15/17 8:24pm) DerFreischutz wrote: I believe we've been over this before. We're fundamentally incompatible.

(8/15/17 8:27pm) HamptDoc17 wrote: How so?

(8/15/17 11:22pm) DerFreischutz wrote: You want children. They aren't in my future. 

(8/15/17 11:23pm) HamptDoc17 wrote: I know that. We met on a message board about your condition. But that was years ago and I'm almost 40! It looks like they might not be in the cards for me, either. I still think we should finally meet. I really like you.

(8/15/17 11:57pm) DerFreischutz wrote: I have no interest in being someone's backup plan life choice.

(8/15/17 11:59pm) HamptDoc17 wrote: You're not my second choice. You're an amazing surprise life dropped in front of me that I never expected. 

(8/16/17 12:04am) DerFreischutz wrote: You don't even know my name or what I look like.

(8/15/17 12:10am) HamptDoc17 wrote: Only because you won't meet me (and I imagine what you look like all the time). That could change. Tell me what plane to get on and I'll do it. I really, really like you. 

(8/15/17 12:36am) DerFreischutz wrote: I am very fond of you. I'm also too old for you (I wonder what you imagine I look like?) Go to bed.

(8/16/17 12:52am) HamptDoc17 wrote: I doubt you're too old. I've been hitting on you since 2015; I'm betting you would have stopped me if you weren't interested on any level or if you thought I was too young.

(8/16/17 12:58am) HamptDoc17 wrote: And since you asked-- When I imagine you, I see someone slightly taller than me (I'm barely average height). A little older, definitely not more than 15 years. I bet it's closer to 10. Your screen name is German, so I'm guessing blue eyes? You're kind and funny and probably the smartest person in the room. I bet you have a great smile. Anyone who gets to know you--really know you, which I bet isn't a lot of people-- is incredibly lucky. You're worth knowing.

(8/16/17 1:05am) HamptDoc17 wrote: Just think about it. Please. 

(8/16/17 6:04pm) HamptDoc17 wrote: … You there?

(8/16/17 6:05pm) HamptDoc17 wrote: Hello?

(8/17/17 4:02am) DerFreischutz wrote: Fine. Let's meet. I'll come to you. 

(8/17/17 6:36am) HamptDoc17 wrote: Wait, really?! When?!

(8/17/17 8:56am) DerFreischutz wrote: Tomorrow, 5pm

HamptDoc17 wrote: Where? You know I'm in East Hampton on Long Island, right? I'll be there.

DerFreischutz wrote: By the windmill at Town Pond. Get some sleep tonight. 

(8/17/17 10:24pm) HamptDoc17 wrote: … Are you implying if things go well you're going to keep me up all night tomorrow?

(8/17/17 10:44pm) DerFreischutz wrote: I'm not 20 anymore… I don't need all night to satisfy my partner. Assuming you're still interested when we meet.

(8/17/17 10:46pm) HampDoc17 wrote: I will be. Going to bed now.

(8/18/17 6:25am) HamptDoc17 wrote: Today's the day! See you at 5. It's still tourist season, do you want me to wear something obvious like a red shirt? How will I know it's you?

(8/18/17 6:44am) DerFreischutz wrote: Wear any color you'd like. I am certain we will have no issues identifying one another. 

(8/18/17 7:54am) HamptDoc17 wrote: Okay, I'll message you when I get there.

(8/18/17 4:56pm) HamptDoc17 wrote: Huh, my boss/friend is here. I guess you two are going to meet. I hope you don't mind, you've always avoided talking about it

(8/18/17 4:57pm) HamptDoc17: ……..

(8/18/17 4:57pm) HamptDoc17: …. You knew it was me this whole time. Didn't you, Boris.

(8/18/17 4:58pm) DerFreischultz: Stop messaging me and come over here.


End file.
